December Twelfth
by Liebling
Summary: “Friendship?” “Forever,” he said. (Ron&Hermione)


A/N: ((Cause you need it)) Okay, so here's the dealio, Hermione and Ron die on the same day (December Twelfth) after being hit by the same curse.  
  
Explanations are quite unneeded, as it is not centered by exact details. And I think the vagueness adds to the mystery of death and all.  
  
Both are seventeen.  
  
I'm not so sure if I like this, but at least it's something different. It really isn't very melancholy (or isn't supposed to be) and for the most part it isn't terribly sad, although I can see how the end could 'get you.'  
  
Oh and btw if Ron and Hermione seem OOC to you, so sorry but I think when you're dying...there's just something about you that isn't quite there, you know? And when you're dying...what's there to lose?  
  
*  
  
"How was your life?" Hermione asked, interested, as she rolled on her side. She felt drained, tired, and weak as though she couldn't stand. Her voice was raspy and afraid.  
  
"--you lived my life, Hermione," he said with a small smile. I grew up with you, you *know* how my life went."  
  
"Not much longer," she informed him, "they say after being cursed like that you've only got about ten minutes."  
  
"Lovely thought, Hermione," Ron muttered darkly.  
  
"It doesn't have to be lovely to be true," she said primly.  
  
"You aren't hurt, are you?" He asked and even though he was concerned it didn't seem like it.  
  
"I'm dying, Ron," she chuckled dryly, "it isn't supposed to be painless. But no, I'm fine."  
  
"Want my cloak?" He asked, attempting to unfasten it.  
  
"No!" She said loudly. "It has your Quidditch team pin on it and your Gryffindor patch...and I couldn't...I wouldn't..."  
  
"You're cold, aren't you?" He asked.  
  
"Of course I am," she said, "we might as well be in a dungeon at the bottom of Hogwarts where no living soul can find us and even if they did they couldn't save us."  
  
And then, the two burst out laughing. Because they very much so were in a dungeon at the bottom of Hogwarts. Alone with the cobwebs and charred cauldrons. And then a flashback came to their minds.  
  
* Flashback:  
  
"Ron!" The eleven-year-old girl exclaimed. "The worst place to die is not at Malfoy Manor."  
  
He smiled grimly, "with all of that nasty junk and ugly Malfoy? Of course it is!"  
  
"No, Ron," she said in a calmer tone, "the worst place to die is in a dark dungeon."  
  
"The sort that are underground Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yeah, those sorts."  
  
"You won't have to die that way," he said earnestly, "I'll be there to protect you, and if we get cold...maybe I could lend you my cloak..."  
  
She smiled slightly.  
  
"Okay, Ron."  
  
* End of Flashback:  
  
Quickly he undid the tie on his cloak and threw it over to her. She adjusted it over her shaking shoulders.  
  
"Okay, Ron." She said as she went back to examining her dirty fingernails.  
  
"Should we say sappy things?"  
  
"What?" She inquired, a smirk playing on her face.  
  
"They always say that before you die you sort of talk to yourself, or maybe talk to the other person, and you say things you never would have said..."  
  
"That's appalling," she smiled. "And totally ridiculous."  
  
"But it's how it should be," he smiled. "Go on then, give."  
  
"No," she shook her head.  
  
"Oh don't be a prude," he said good-naturedly. "Ever been kissed?"  
  
Her lips turned into a pout and she defiantly met his gaze. "Just because I'm dying," she said quickly, "I will not play childish and stupid games with you, of all people."  
  
He laughed a loud laugh and rolled over to face her, his eyes boring into hers. "It's a no, huh?"  
  
"...I always thought there would be time for that stuff-" she waved her hands about "-love stuff later. After Hogwarts. But time's up."  
  
"Oh Hermione," he said a bit more sympathetic, "no smoochie smoochie with Vicky?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, "Viktor? No way...I was just fourteen..."  
  
"We're just seventeen," he informed her.  
  
"I know," she said, "we're still young. Ron...we're the future, we're Britain's finest, the new tomorrow, the brighter--forever..."  
  
"...and we'll also be dead in a few minutes," he said lightly.  
  
"That's what so sad!" She wailed. "Are you scared?"  
  
"'Course not," he said quickly, "I'm fine."  
  
"What do you mean you're 'fine' we're...we're going to be gone in a few minutes."  
  
"Not gone, Hermione," he said, as though she was a small child. "Gone from here."  
  
She covered her face with her small hands. He pulled one hand away from her face and grasped it tightly.  
  
And he kissed her. Right on her dry, crackled lips that tasted of ripe strawberries.  
  
"Ron," she murmured, "you aren't supposed to do that."  
  
"Why not?" He whispered back.  
  
"Because before I can fully comprehend it and relish in it and tell Parvati and Lavender...I'll be gone," she looked woeful.  
  
"In Heaven," he smiled, "you get to keep your memories."  
  
She returned the tearful smile, "I'll miss this--you, me--us."  
  
"You can't miss something that's forever," he said quietly.  
  
She gripped his hand tighter and focused on the dark concrete walls. Trying to let no more tears fall.  
  
"Mummy and Daddy," she moaned, "I always promised Daddy that he'd be the last man I kissed before I died."  
  
"He'd be proud," Ron said.  
  
"Oh Ron," she said, "...I shouldn't be telling you all of this-"  
  
"-Nonsense!"  
  
"No Ron, you're being so great but I'm forgetting that you have a family that loves you too. And you have your own hopes, and dreams, and fears, and aspirations, well, maybe not aspirations but still."  
  
He smiled, "I wanted to see the Chudley Cannons win the Quidditch world cup."  
  
"That'll never happen."  
  
"I know. Wishful thinking, I suppose. I know I've never been a great listener, Hermione-"  
  
"No Ron," she shook her head, "you've been spectacular."  
  
"Don't lie," he smiled as his brow crinkled.  
  
"Forever," she said with conviction as she held onto his hand. She was shivering and cold but her hand held warmth she had never felt before.  
  
And then the fireworks began to boom. Loud and hard and unwavering. And it was their very own celebration, really.  
  
"I'll miss you," she said.  
  
"You can't miss something that's forever, Hermione."  
  
"Heaven?" She asked.  
  
"I don't know," was the honest reply.  
  
"God?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe," he shrugged.  
  
"Love?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Friendship?"  
  
"Forever," he said.  
  
She smiled at him and beamed, the tears no longer littered her pretty face . His cheeks were still dark red. His hand slowly slipped from hers and his eyes closed blissfully.  
  
Less than thirty seconds later her eyes slipped close as well.  
  
Many who found the two dead on the dungeon floor would always smile and tear up at the same time. Her head was rested on his chest and his hand elevated her chin to meet his gaze.  
  
And it was just the sort of way things were supposed to end. Or for that matter...begin  
  
* 


End file.
